If we can’t, as artists, improve on real life, we should put down our pencils and go bake bread.
BARBARA KINGSOLVERThis is how moths speak to each other. They tell their love across the fields by scent. There is no mouth, the wrong words are impossible, either a mate is there or he is not, and if so the pair will find each other in the dark.
More Barbara Kingsolver Quotes
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You never knew which split second might be the zigzag bolt dividing all that went before from the everything that comes next.
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We agreed with him in principal – we were little scientists, born and bred. But children robbed of love will dwell on magic.
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I’ve about decided that’s the main thing that separates happy people from the other people: the feeling that you’re a practical item, with a use, like a sweater or a socket wrench.
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My worst nightmare is being stuck somewhere with nothing to read.
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Thanks for this day, for all birds safe in their nests, for whatever this is, for life.
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This is what it means to be alone: everyone is connected to everyone else, their bodies are a bright liquid life flowing around you, sharing a single heart that drives them to move all together. If the shark comes they will all escape, and leave you to be eaten.
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If you want sweet dreams, you’ve got to live a sweet life.
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All of the promises of politicians, generals, madmen, and crusaders that war can create peace have yet to be borne out.
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The truth needs so little rehearsal.
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Feeling that morality has nothing to do with the way you use the resources of the world is an idea that can’t persist much longer. If it does, then we won’t.
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Because I could not stop for death he kindly stopped for me, or paused at least to strike a glancing blow with his sky-blue mouth as he passed.
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High fashion has the shelf life of potato salad. And when past its prime, it is similarly deadly.
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Many of us who aren’t farmers or gardeners still have some element of farm nostalgia in our family past, real or imagined: a secret longing for some connection to a life where a rooster crows in the yard.
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Honk if you love Jesus, text while driving if you want to meet up.
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Memories do not always soften with time; some grow edges like knives.
BARBARA KINGSOLVER